


Partner of Choice

by somethingclever



Series: Tim IS a caring and nurturing person. [7]
Category: Justified
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, May/December Relationship, family fic, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 22:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11323506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingclever/pseuds/somethingclever
Summary: Tim's in a relationship with Raylan.  They're partners, and it doesn't matter to him that Raylan's a good bit older.  Why the hell should it matter to his buddies?





	1. Intervention, stage 1

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that I am perhaps being overly optimistic about how accepting Tim's friends/platoon/squad would be of him dating a man. HOWEVER, this is my fic-world, and I can write it that way if I wanna!

Tim kissed the top of Artie's head, double checked his pockets for his ID and wallet, his gun pressed against his spine and knife hugging his ankle, kissed Raylan maybe a little longer than he should if he wanted to go, and slid out of his hands, chuckling. "I'll be home late," he called back, "And I'll take care of that then, okay?"  
  
"You better, you damn brat," Raylan hollered, his voice fond. Some of his buddies were in town and had asked him to meet up with them, and Raylan had offered to watch Artie, so Tim was gonna take full advantage of a night out- although not so much advantage he couldn't end the night right with his love.  
  
As things often did with this particular crew, when Hummel didn't attend, things got out of hand and rowdy, drinking and reminiscing and the sort of rough and tumble Tim loved- and had missed, more or less.  
  
That was, until Martin let slip why they had come to visit en masse. Simply put, they were worried.  
  
About him.  
  
With Raylan.

Because Raylan was over forty, and that was 'Gross old, bro.  Like, Hugh Hefner, old.'

  
He laid his head on the table, blushing to the ears and reminding himself that he couldn't kill them or himself and still get to go home to Raylan.  "No, seriously bro," Andrew leaned over, as serious as only a drunk buddy can be, "He's, like... old."  
  
"I'm thirty one," Tim pointed out, "Hardly jail-bait."  
  
"You woulda been, when he was eighteen!"  
  
"Uh," Tim blinked, "That's not how that works."  
  
"And Mark told us about him when you were in Kentucky.  Said he was an ass. Said you hated him. So... now you're together, hombre?"  
  
The mention of Mark led to raised glasses and bitter swallowing and Tim finished his and shot the table a look- his patented don't fuckin' fuck with me look- and waited.  "Who I fuck," he said, "Is still my business, not any of yours. And who I decide to spend the rest of my life with-" not that he was telling Raylan that, dude, no, messy! "Is also none of your shit to mess with. You readin' me?"  
  
"We read you," Martin said finally after a moment, "Still don't agree, but-"  
  
Tim grinned, wild and manic, "Trust me, if I was the sharing kind, and he liked scrawny crazy-ass Mexicans, you'd agree."   
  
"Ew, no! Keep your men, let me keep the ladies!"  
  
"Can't keep them, neither," Andrew teased, "Wife three?"

Tim waved off his buddies at the end of the night, the most sober by about three miles, and let himself into the house, taking the stairs two at a time up to the bedroom.  Raylan grinned at him, eyes sparkling over the rims of his reading glasses and Tim's entire chest ached with how much he loved him. "Have fun?"  
  
"Mm, yes," Tim said, "Not done yet, though..."  
  
"Oh?" Raylan smirked, setting aside the book he was reading and reaching for him, "C'mon, then."  
  
Oh, he sure would.  
  



	2. Melee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan and Tim go to a Ranger platoon get-together. Tim shouldn't have been so optimistic about his buddies accepting Raylan.

Raylan came very, very near to pulling his sidearm to break up the brawl Tim got himself into. He couldn't blame him, it had been...  
  
Well, he'd been harassed a time or two before, and he'd been a Marshal all his adult life, so it was nothin' new, this type of shit, but it cut across a few things he'd carved into his own goddamn chest, and one or two scars Arlo had left.  He wasn't answering - this was Tim's family, after all, and if he could hold his tongue to Winona's mother, he could hold it here, at a platoon get-together in a public park- but god. He wanted to.  
  
He hadn't seen Tim coming up behind him, sliding around Raylan and slamming into Martin like a loaded coal train, snarling vulgarity and promising pain in the same breath.  Andrew, Martin's buddy, stepped into it to try to pull Tim off, and was clipped in the eye by Tim's elbow, and that was that.  He pulled back to strike at Tim, only to have someone Tim had introduced as Jerry fling himself forward into the melee.  
  
He'd have stepped into it, too, he liked a good fight as well as anybody else, but one of the wives grabbed him back just in time. "Honey, no," she said, shaking her head, eyes wide, "You'll just make it worse for him."  
  
More Rangers piled in, and Raylan got back to the edge, watching Tim fight- still primarily Martin? But he wasn't above helping out in other pairings.  "Shit, break it up, Sarge is coming!" Somebody yelled, and Raylan boggled as the biggest man he'd about ever seen waded into the conflict, batting men aside left and right, reaching in and grabbing both Martin and Tim by the backs of their necks, and- oh, _shit-_ Raylan winced- slamming their heads together.

Both men dropped from his hands when he released them- Martin dropping straight down, Tim curling his body to the side, to be out of range of a kick, and already trying to roll to his feet. Humvee spoke, quick and low, “You done,Gutterson?” Raylan could appreciate the nickname, this close to the man's bulging muscles and bulk ( after all, he was almost standing on top of Raylan, expecting him to be the one who moved – not happening, buddy!).  
  
Raylan didn't actually expect Tim to be able to form an answer after that crack upside of his head, but his partner snarled, "Depends, is he?"  
  
"Didn't ask about Martin, asking you. You done?"  
  
"Not if he isn't," Tim had regained his feet, separated from Raylan and more than a little wild-eyed. Raylan knew that look well- Tim was about to go off. Shit.  
  
"Boy, I have a stock tank fulla water handy and I ain't afraid to hold your skinny ass under it until you pass out," Humvee warned, and Raylan tilted his head to look him up and down- his sidearm would come out, if he tried that! "What even did you start that shit over?"  
  
"He," Tim jerked his chin- that had to hurt!- towards Martin, who was struggling to sit up, "Can tell you what he said.  I didn't catch all of the shit," he spat, "He was spewing, but I’ve been fighting over who I love just about my whole fuckin' life and if you fuckin' think a stock tank is gonna scare me-"  
  
"Whoa, whoa," Humvee held up a hand, "Over Raylan?"  
  
...did he know all their names, Raylan wondered, or just the two men stupid enough to love Rangers?  
  
"I was gone two minutes, Sarge, I come back and this goatfucker has Raylan backed up and he’s sayin' shit you wouldn't let _anybody_ say to _your_ wife, and I-"  
  
"That so, Martin?"  
  
"I guess."  Well, at least he wasn't trying to lie, Raylan thought.  
  
"Got off easy," Hummel said, "You apologize to Raylan, or it'll be you I hold under the water- I might do it anyhow, you _piece of-"  
  
"'Scuse me," Raylan spoke up, "The headache and double shiner Tim gave him is enough for me, without  you waterboarding him. I am a law officer and I would rather not have to ignore *that* much."  
  
Humvee looked down at him, and grinned, sharply, "Knew I liked you," he rumbled, almost too low to be heard, "Martin. Next time, it won't be Tim givin' you hell, you hear me? He's a grown-ass man, can make his own goddamn choices even if he is a stupid little fucker half the time. Got it?"  
  
"Yes, Sarge."  
  
"Molly! Dammit where is that goddamn medic?"  
  
"I'm right behind you, Sarge," the man called Molly - Raylan didn't know his real name- spoke up patiently, "Nicole came and got me. Should have figured it'd be these two. Get set down, I'll get ice."  
  
Tim moved obediently to do it, and Raylan pulled him in, suddenly needing to just- "You shouldn't have," he said under his breath- this wasn't for anybody but them to hear!- "Tim, you shouldn't have."  
  
"What'd I tell you?" Tim said, "Ain't nobody comin' at either of us except through the other, and there's no getting through us yet."

On the ride home- Raylan drove, since Tim's head was still ringing- they were quiet.  Artie had been clear across the park with the other kids when the fight happened, and he'd seen enough bruises to not freak out over Tim's face.  He was passed out in his car seat, clutching his monkey in both hands.  Raylan pulled into the drive and looked over at Tim.  "He wasn't wrong about- you probably could do better."  
  
"Raylan," Tim said, his voice nasally from his nose being at the very least badly bruised, probably broken, "I'll fight you, too."  
  
Raylan snorted, shaking his head but grinning,  "I do pick fighters, it seems like," he said softly.  
  
"Boyd?" Tim asked for the first time.  
  
"Boyd," Raylan confirmed softly, reaching out a hand to take Tim's. Tim sighed, an aching sound from deep in his chest, tired and hurting but not unhappy.  
  
"I'm sorry if I shouldn't have-"  
  
"I was some pissed," Raylan replied, "For a few minutes there, but the more I think about it, the less pissed I am and the more I really just wanna kiss you 'til you beg, so..." he shrugged, "I was okay, so's you know. But it was... nice to have you watchin' out. And am I wrong in thinkin' you went after him not because you thought I couldn't handle it, but-"  
  
"Not wrong," Tim confirmed, "You could have. I mean, it'd have been a fucking mess, and you'd have wound up pretty hurt, but you'd have made your point.  It was more I wanted to, I needed... you're worth it. You're my," he moved his hands helplessly, and Raylan watched as he screwed up his face, trying to put it in words, "Raylan, I ain't ever felt so fucking pissed in my life.  You're mine. My partner and love and-and you make up a shit ton of my world, and there are days you're all that keeps me sane, because I know I've got you if I need you. You don't even realize it, half the time, what you give me.  And he was... throwing what makes you special to me at you like it was shit. And I couldn't take it."  
  
Raylan swallowed hard, and thought of all the replies, all the words to use and none of them felt like  enough, or right.  "Yeah," he said slowly, "Definitely gonna need to take you to bed once we get our kiddo settled in."  
  
Tim's smile was brilliant, even if his eyes were bruised and his mouth crooked from swelling.

*

Tim had, he reflected, been _stupid_ to think that one verbal warning would deflect that bunch of fucking idiot grunts like his squad-mate buddies. And naive.  
  
Thank fuck it didn't happen at a battalion reunion, with brass and all. There were doubtless plenty of homophobes he'd have had to take on and gotten stomped for his trouble, but it had been bad enough with just his platoon of people who really, frankly, couldn't care less who Tim got his jollies with so long, apparently, as that person wasn't Raylan Givens, who was all he wanted, so they could all just fuck off.  
  
Even the Sarge (there were other Sergeants of course, but The Sarge only meant one man to all of them, ever) had a bruised mouth, and Tim was vaguely impressed with whoever managed to lay hand or foot or elbow on Neal Hummel.  He'd gone through six deployments without so much as a sunburn.  The sun itself was scared of Humvee, they'd always told the new boots.  
  
Raylan shifted the ice pack and Tim hissed, and Raylan pressed it harder, muttering 'asshole' under his breath.  Tim reached a hand for him, suddenly terrified he'd done the wrong thing after all, he'd crossed Raylan's lines which were never clearly defined and that just wasn't *fair*!

Raylan huffed at him, settling his hand back in the ice bath, "You're fine, moron," he growled, "But you won't be, if you take your damn hands out of there sooner than five more minutes."  Wives, girlfriends, and the other boyfriend buzzed around their rangers, each haranguing at varying levels, and sweet mother of God, Sarge was coming his way...  
  
Hummel crouched down in front of the cooler Tim was sitting on, tilting Tim's face back and left and right with a practiced hand, ignoring Raylan's barely-bitten-back sound of warning. "Well," he said slowly, "Don't look to have hurt your eyes, Guts."  
  
"No sarge, that's from my nose."  
  
"Yeah, I think I know a break when I see it," he said, amused, "Good job, Gutterson."  
  
"Yes, Sarge."  
  
"You did not," Neal's wife, Ashley, growled behind him, "Just tell him good job for _starting_ that brawl-"  
  
"Didn't start it, ma'am," Tim interrupted, "Hensley and Martin did."  
  
"They were just talking-"  
  
"Smack," Neal said as Raylan stepped in, just as quick, with "Bullshit."  
  
"Yeah. How d'you think Neal would handle one of us picking on you, ma'am?" Tim eyed her, and she looked at her husband and grinned.  
  
"Put it that way," she said slowly, "Good job, Gutterson."  
  
"Thank you, ma'am."  
  
Yeah, Sarge's lady was just as scary as Sarge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at writing action - I did my best, but I apologize for disjointedness. I felt this installment was the weakest I've written, but I loved parts of it too much not to share. I hope you keep reading this series - and if you'd like to leave a comment, I'd love to have it!


End file.
